The Confession (9 page)

From behind her, someone was calling her name, their voice like a soothing lullaby luring her back. She knew she was running out of time to reach him. Her urgency mounted. Having ignored the calls, the voice from the terrace was growing stronger, louder, confusing her. Which way should she go? Drawn to the sound calling her back, she turned around. There was no one there.

She twisted back. The garden once filled with dancing couples was now just a long stretch of green grass, and crushed pink roses. Realizing she was completely alone, she felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness and fear. He was gone. The moon shone down on a single pink rose. She raced over and picked it up. The beautiful pink rose was covered with dozens of ladybugs. Her chest tightened, the physical pain of her heart breaking was becoming increasingly strong, the agony building. Still holding the rose bud, she began to sob.

The voice, once sounding like a lullaby, became an insistent shout. “Aimee … Aimee, wake up!”

She awoke to Luther leaning over her in the bright room, his face conveying concern as she lay there shaking. He pulled her into his arms, rocking her and smoothing her hair back like one would a small child. “It’s all okay. It was just a dream. I’m here.”

“It was so real. I was so scared. I could see the people, smell the flowers. They all wore masks and white dresses and they were all dancing, and so happy. I needed to get to him, but I was too late.”

“Needed to get to who?” he asked, still gently stroking her head.

“I don’t know.” Her breath hitched. “I don’t know who he was, but somehow, I know that I knew him. I needed to be with him. But this soft voice kept calling me back and somehow I knew I needed to be there too. It was just a silly dream, so why do I feel so sad?”

“It couldn’t have slipped your mind that you just heard this incredible fairy tale story about Emily and Nathan. The scene in your dream sounds a bit similar, only this time it’s you, so we can assume you were racing toward your man. Your soul mate or whatnot, right?”

“Maybe … ”

“But someone or something else is standing in the way. What do you think that is?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do, even if you don’t want to admit it. The man in the moonlight is Mark, and the voice calling you back is your secret or maybe just your guilt over having one.”

She turned around to face him on the bed. “Okay, Dr. Phil.” She clucked her tongue mockingly. “Good grief, I’m certainly not dreaming that Mark is waiting for me in the moonlight. He hates me.”

“Oh yeah, he hates you alright.” He laughed at her. “Sex in the foyer, sex on a barstool. I wish I could find someone who hated me like that.”

“I did not have sex with him on either occasion, stop being so dramatic.”

“I saw you. He definitely doesn’t hate you.”

She let out a long sigh and mumbled, “I didn’t have sex with him.”

“Yet,” he replied laughing as she softly slapped at him. His face grew serious. “What are you going to do now that you’re sending me home tomorrow? You’ll be all alone. Besides, you need me.”

“I’ll be fine, Luther, and so will you. I need you to keep things together for me at the shop.”

“I still don’t understand why I can’t stay a couple more days.” He sulked. “We still haven’t discussed how long you’re planning to stay here. We haven’t talked about the new line, or even any real details about what happened to send you here. Have you talked to your mother? Tried to get some answers?”

She shook her head. “I’m not ready to face her.”

“I know you’re afraid, but you may not have a lot of time to stay that way.” When she didn’t respond he lifted her chin and forced her to look at him. “If you’re afraid that this is all for nothing … ”

“No, that’s not it.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I … I just don’t want to be wrong.”

Aimee stood next to the open cab door as Luther tossed his bag into the backseat. They looked at each other in silence before he finally asked, “Are you sure you’re going to be okay? There’s still time to change your mind and come with me.”

She reached out and took his hand. “I need to figure this out. If nothing else, I owe Emily a great auction and birthday party. I can’t just abandon her right now.”

“I know.” He embraced her. “It was worth a shot. Selfishly, home isn’t the same without you, plus all this worrying about you is hell on my appearance. I’m leaving with more bags than I came with, and the dark circles under my eyes were not the accessory I was going for when I bought this fabulous black cashmere.” Stepping back from her, he ran his hands lovingly down the front of his sweater.

She laughed and stepping forward, laid her forehead onto his shoulder as he brought his arms around her again. “This is the moment that I wish you weren’t so valuable to me at the shop. I do wish you could stay.”

“Just make sure you call me this time. I won’t ever forgive you if you keep me awake worrying about you. I need my beauty sleep.” He placed a kiss on the top of her head and pulled back to look at her.

Reaching into his pocket he pulled out an empty gum wrapper. “Give me that.” He said indicating her gum. “You’re never going to live happily ever after with Mark if he catches you chomping and snapping that gum like you do. I told you to break that habit years ago.”

She removed the gum from her mouth and put it into the wrapper he held. “I will not be living happily ever after with anyone but you.”

“You poor, misguided, girl, how many times must I tell you to get over that fantasy?” He clucked his tongue. “We can never be. You’re not the only one who dreams of tall, dark, and handsome men silhouetted in the moonlight.” He climbed into the car and blew her a kiss before he closed the door.

She waved as the cab rounded the fountain and drove out of the gate. Turning, she slowly walked back toward the house. Before reaching the front door, she was surprised to see a sporty, silver Mercedes pull into the drive. She watched as a tall, attractive man with salt-and-pepper hair regally folded himself out of the small car.

He approached her, walking slowly and fidgeting with his tie.

“Can I help you?” she asked him.

He removed his sunglasses and tucked them into the inside pocket of his jacket, adjusted his cuffs before buttoning his jacket and smoothing it down with shaky hands. His face was pale, and she could sense his nervousness through his smile.

“Is … ” he cleared his throat. “Is Marcus Lee at home?”

“I believe so,” she replied. “Can I tell him who’s here?”

He held out his hand to her. She reached out and shook his hand. “I’m Jacob Parson, his father.”

She could feel the blood drain from her face as she stared at him in disbelief.

“I see you’ve heard of me.” His attempt to lighten the situation was lost when his voice cracked. His eyes grew serious. “I understand he may not wish to see me, but I have to try. I just need a moment of his time if he will allow it.”

She stood there silently, unsure of what to do. Her instincts were to ask him to leave, to tell him to turn around and go back the way he came.

“Please.” His eyes, identical to Mark’s, were sad and pleading.

She nodded her head and walking inside, held the door open for him to enter. She ushered him into the small sitting room off the foyer. “I’ll tell him you’re here.”

She walked into the kitchen and found Mark sitting at the table alone with a cup of coffee and his laptop.

“Good morning,” he said. “Want to join me for a cup of coffee?”

“Mark … ” Her voice shook.

He rose from the table. “Is something wrong?” His brow creased.

She shook her head, trying desperately to find the right words that would ease this situation. Not finding any she said, “Mark, your father is here. In the sitting room. He wants to see you.”

He stood as still as a statue. His blue eyes raged. The heat rose on his face changing his olive tone to one of hot molten lava. He clenched his jaw, the muscles simultaneously twitching on each cheek. The pulse at his temple throbbed, but he continued to stare straight ahead.

“What does he want?” he finally asked, his voice low, his words dropping like each was its own sentence.

“I don’t know. He didn’t say.”

She fought the urge to touch him, wanting to calm him, but knowing any attempt would be futile. He straightened his stance, and marched from the room.

Aimee jotted notes down in a binder as she walked through the civic center that would be the venue for the Nathan Talbot Foundation’s charity auction. There were still so many details to work through. After giving her a thorough tour of the kitchen and prep area, she tried to concentrate on the additional questions the caterer was asking.

“I realize how much time you need to prepare,” Aimee stated, hoping to squelch the caterer’s panic bubbling just beneath the surface as the date drew closer. “Remember, doors will open at five and I need all the wait staff ready to go with hors d’oeuvre and champagne trays. All three bars must be double-manned for the entire event and ready to open at five. Dinner is at six-thirty sharp and I will have the final guest preference count to you on Friday, like I promised. Anything else we need to go over?”

She knew she’d put out the fire when the caterer breathed a sigh of relief. “I think that’s it, thank you so much. I just want this to be a huge success for Emily.”

“We all do.” Aimee patted her shoulder reassuringly and walked into the main ballroom that would host the auction itself.

She pulled one of the folding chairs off the rack and placed it in the center of the room looking toward the front. The stage where the items would be presented, was sitting in pieces at the far end of the room. She tried to envision the completed stage, the wall of curtains behind it, the placement of the podium, and the floral arrangements set toward the edge.

Unable to focus, her mind drifted back to the main house and the raised voices that blustered from the front sitting room. She’d wanted to wait, to make sure Mark was alright, but the frantic phone call from the caterer had taken priority. Instead she’d sat and worried about him all morning. What did his father want? According to Mark, he’d been out of his life for, well, hell, he’d never really been in his life. Holding her cell phone, her fingers itched to dial. She knew he would want to be alone, and if he needed to talk, he would go to Emily. Why did it hurt so much to know she was the last person he would reach out to in this situation? They hardly knew each other, and he didn’t trust her to check the mail, let alone with his personal feelings about his father. So why did that fact bother her so much? Why couldn’t she stop thinking about the way his eyes lost focus, and his hands had clenched into fists at the mention of his father’s presence?

Attempting to bring herself back to the job at hand, she pulled out her binder again, making a note to verify the count on the linen covers for the folding chairs. She also jotted down a call to the florist, and the security company she’d hired for the evening.

“Aimee?”

She whirled around surprised to hear someone calling her from the other room. “In here.”

Peter walked into the room, dressed in a charcoal gray suit and a cobalt blue shirt. His tie was slightly loose, his eyes bright and his smile radiant.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, standing to greet him.

“I have a couple of things to go over with you in regards to the silent auction and heard you were here.”

“You didn’t have to drive all the way down here. You could’ve just called me.”

“Yes, I could have, but then I would have missed an opportunity to see you. You’ve turned down all of my requests to take you to dinner, so now I’m forced to drive across town with any excuse I can muster just to see you.”

She smiled, flattered by his attentions. So why was her first thought of Mark and how she wished he saw her the same way Peter did? “You know I can’t have dinner with you. We’re working together.”

“Then I’ll call Emily and tell her I quit.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his cell phone.

She grinned, reaching out to slap his phone closed. “Don’t you dare! I can’t possibly do this on my own.”

“Then I think you’re going to have to have dinner with me. Are you busy tonight?”

She wasn’t sure what to say. She knew any woman with a pulse would jump at the chance to have dinner with this gorgeous man. He was sweet, successful, friendly, and trusting. He wasn’t a commitment-phobe and wasn’t in need of medication to control his girlish mood swings. Again she wondered why it was that she wished the man begging her to spend time with him were Mark and not Peter.

“I can’t tonight … ”

“How about tomorrow?”

“Peter.” She laughed at his perseverance. “I’m so busy this week, how about after the auction?”

“That’s almost two weeks from now.” He seemed genuinely horrified she would even suggest waiting that long. Judging by his expression, he was actually pouting.

“I’ll see if I can free up some time before the auction, but don’t count on it. We still have a lot of work to do.” She smiled. “What did you need to discuss with regards to the silent auction?”

“Do you always have to have the last word?” he asked her, his eyes conveying admiration.

“Absolutely.” Watching him, she realized that without intent, she’d just made herself a challenge. She pulled another folding chair off the rack and set it across from her.

She liked Peter. He was damn near perfect. He was attractive, employed, smart, funny, straight, single ... so what was wrong with her? Why wasn’t she thanking her lucky stars that this Adonis of a man wanted her? He wasn’t Mark. She felt the blood drain from her face as the reality hit her. She wasn’t just crazy about him, and this was more than physical attraction. This was it. This was Emily and Nathan, earth-spinning, once-in-a-lifetime love. In a matter of two weeks, she’d fallen in love with the one man she could never have.

“Are you okay? You don’t look well.” Peter took her elbow to steady her.

“Fine, sorry.”

“You just went completely white. Are you sure you’re okay?”